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Daniel Avery Langworthy 



/ 

Reminiscences 



of 



A Prisoner of War 



and 



His Escape 



By 

Daniel Avery Langworthy 

Late Captain 85th N. Y. Vol. Infantry 



With Illustrations ^ 



Byron Printing Company 

Minneapolis, Minn. 

1915 









Copyright 1915 
by 
Daniel Avery Langworthy *^ 




AFFBCTIONATELY DEDICATED 
TO MY ESTEEMED FRIEND AND COMRADE 

ELL TORRANCE 

PAST COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF, GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



FACING 
PAGE 



Daniel Avery Langworthy 

Captain 85th N. Y. Vol. Infantry 

Compass, Knife, Fork and Spoon 

Used in Capt. Langworthy's escape 

Camp Oglethrope, Macon, Georgia 

Shoes and Hickory Stick 

Used in Capt. Langworthy's Escape 

Jail Yard, Charleston, S. C. 

Roper Hospital, Charleston, S. C. 

Five Escaped Officers 

Who joined Capt. Langworthy's party 



Frontispiece 



18 

20 
26 

28 
32 
56 



Five Officers including Capt. Langworthy 68 
As they appeared after reaching the Union Hnes 



Preface 

Soon after my escape from captivity and my 
arrival at the home of my father-in-law, at 
Elmira, New York, where my good wife was, my 
sister Sarah, who was older than myself, and 
her husband, came to see me. She sat down by 
my side and said; ^^Now Daniel, tell me all 
about it. How you were captured, how treated 
while a prisoner of war, how you made your 
escape and worked your way from Columbia, 
South Carolina, to Elmira.'' She held me to a 
strict account until she had the full story. I 
then told her that if after that I should be asked 
about it I would refer them to her (she would 
have given a good narrative), but unfortunately 
she is not living now. 

I have never been much inclined to talk about 
my prison life, nor had thought of writing about 
it until recently when some of my comrades, 
who had been talking with me about it, sug- 
gested and strongly urged that I write it out. 
The result of which is these reminiscences. 
Doubtless I could have told this story better 



fifty years ago, for, as I did not keep a diary 
or any memorandum, it is entirely from mem- 
ory, yet the events made a fixed impression on 
my mind and I believe that what I have herein 
narrated is correct. I was born January 3rd, 
1832. 

DANIEL AVERY LANGWORTHY. 

Minneapolis, Minn. 

April 3rd, 1915. 



Narrative 

Before the Civil War I was a young physician 
in New York city, had been brought up a strong 
Whig and fully believed that slavery was en- 
tirely wrong. After the beginning of the war I 
felt it my duty to go and help and thought that 
the privates, the men who carried and used 
rifles were what was wanted; hence I went to 
Elmira, New York, and enlisted on September 
10th, 1861, in the Eighty-fifth New York Regi- 
ment, which regiment was being recruited in 
Allegany County in the locality where my 
father lived, so that I might be with my former 
associates. Late in the fall of 1861 the regiment 
was moved to Washington, D. C, remaining 
there during the winter. Early in the follow- 
ing spring we went on the Peninsula campaign 
under General McClellan, our regiment being 
in General Wessell's brigade. On April 9th, 
1862, I was commissioned first lieutenant. On 
October 17th, 1862, captain. 



14 A Prisoner of War 

At the close of the campaign as we came off 
the Peninsula, General Wessell's brigade was 
left at Fortress Monroe, where it remained for a 
time, and was then ordered to Newburn, North 
Carolina, and from there to Plymouth, North 
Carolina. In July, 1863, two other officers, some 
enlisted men and myself were detailed and 
sent to Elmira, New York, on conscript duty. 
While in Elmira I was married. In March, 
1864, we were ordered to return to our com- 
mand. We did so, arriving at Plymouth, North 
Carolina, about April 1st. On April 20th the 
entire post was captured after a siege of four 
days. 

After our capture we were started toward 
Eichmond and marched in that direction for 
two days ; then laid over for one day. Although 
nothing had been said, we inferred that there 
must be something wrong at Richmond, indeed 
we afterward learned that General Grant had 
started on his wilderness campaign, and orders 
had been issued from Richmond not to bring 
any more prisoners there. 

The next morning we started south and 
tramped in that direction until we came to a 
railroad, where we were loaded into cattle or 



And His Escape 15 

box cars (I being on the first train). We con- 
tinued our southern journey, passing through 
Wilmington and Charleston to Savannah, then 
going west through Macon, we arrived at An- 
dersonville, Georgia, in the afternoon. We were 
then taken out of the cars and sat down 
on the ground. 

Andersonville contained only a few scattered 
houses. We could plainly see where our men 
were encamped, some distance away, with noth- 
ing to protect them from the heat of the sun 
and apparently with only a scant supply of 
water. Soon after our arrival a well-mounted 
and soldierly-looking officer came riding toward 
us. He was met by the officer in command of 
our guard, who saluted and inquired: ^^Is this 
Captain Wirtz V^ ^ ^ Yes, ' ' was the reply. ^ ^ Cap- 
tain Wirtz, I have some prisoners here for 
you,*' said the officer in charge of us. ^^ About 
how manyT' inquired Captain Wirtz, ^^and 
what are theyf *^ About eight hundred. 
Seventy-five officers and about seven hundred 
and twenty-five men," was the answer. **Well,'' 
said Captain Wirtz, ^'I suppose I must take the 
men, but I cannot take the officers. ' * 



16 A Prisoner of War 

The captain of our guard was an imperious 
man; he straightened himself up and said: 
' ^ Captain Wirtz, I am ordered to turn these pris- 
oners over to you.'' ^'I cannot take the offi- 
cers/' repeated Captain Wirtz. ^^I have no 
place for them. God knows my place is bad 
enough for the men!" ^^ Captain Wirtz," insist- 
ed the captain of our guard, ^^I shall turn all 
these prisoners over to you." *'Do what you 

d n please, ' ' said Wirtz. ^ ^ Turn them loose 

if you want to, but I tell you I will not take the 
officers." He then turned his horse and rode 
away. 

We all realized that we had witnessed an 
important scene — and it was. It established a 
precedent. So far as I know, no officers were 
confined at Andersonville. Had they been, the 
majority of them, like our men, would have died 
there. Of my company forty-eight good, healthy, 
robust young men went into Andersonville 
that day and the remains of thirty of them are 
there now; while of the officers of our regiment 
who were captured, all lived to return North. 
While that was the only time I ever saw Cap- 
tain Wirtz, that event, and what I learned after- 
ward, gave me a strong impression that the au- 



And His Escape 17 

thorities at Richmond, and especially Winder, 
were responsible for the treatment of the pris- 
oners at Libby, Belle Island, Andersonville, etc. 
Apparently Captain Wirtz was a well-drilled 
European soldier, who of course was trained to 
obey orders ; but in this case he had so much re- 
spect for the rank of the officers that he re- 
belled and established a precedent which most 
certainly was a God-send to the officers. 

Soon after he left we were ordered into line 
and the officers were commanded to step out 
(to the left). We understood well what that 
meant. It was a trying time for the officers, 
for we realized full well where our men were go- 
ing. I think we had about the same idea of 
Andersonville then that we have now. The men 
were marched away. 

After the men were gone we were marched 
across the railroad onto a knoll with a beauti- 
ful grove, in which was a vacant church, and 
told to make ourselves comfortable there for 
the night. Of course there was a guard around 
us, but we were allowed to go out into the grove. 
Going down the knoll we found a very large and 
most excellent spring of fine water, which came 
bubbling up out of the white sand. We said: 



18 A Prisoner of War 

*'Wliat a lovely and perfect place for a camp. 
Why wasn't our boys' camp here instead of 
over there on that hill? Here is water, shade 
and everything/' The answer was: '^ It is too 
good a place for the Yankees." 

The next morning we entered the cars and 
started back east. As Captain Wirtz would not 
take us, something must be done with us. The 
first town of importance we came to was Macon. 
We stopped there and were turned over to the 
general officer in command at that point. As 
there had not been any prisoners kept there, 
no arrangements for us had been made. We 
were taken out into a nice park, furnished with 
plenty of tents and were told to make ourselves 
comfortable; very fair rations were issued to us 
each day and plenty of them. We were allowed 
to go to the guard line and buy anything we 
wished if we had the wherewith to pay for it. 
In fact, we were treated kindly and had no com- 
plaint to make. By talking over the guard line 
at this camp, I purchased of a colored woman, 
a good table knife, fork and spoon, which I kept 
and found to be very useful; getting hold of a 
three-cornered file, I made a saw of the back of 
the knife, thinking it might be of use in an 




Compass that Guided Us by Night and Day 

AND Knife, Fork and Spoon Purchased from 

Colored Woman at Macon, Georgia 



And His Escape 19 

emergency. After a few days, when we were 
getting rested, I would hear: ^'What is it we 
hear about Libby, Belle Island and Anderson- 
ville! We certainly have no reason to com- 
plain. ' ' 

During my prison life I met comrades who 
had been, I think, in most of the places where 
our men were confined and they all practically 
told the same story; that when they were turned 
over to the local authorities they were well 
treated, but that when they came under the 
Richmond or Winder care it was as different as 
it well could be. 

Apparently it was well understood that no 
soldier was to be in a condition, when ex- 
changed or when he got North, to re-enter the 
service. 

After we had been in Macon for perhaps a 
couple of weeks, I noticed one day two officers 
riding around in another part of the park. I 
recognized one of them, and asked our captain 
of the guard : ' ' Who is that officer with Colonel 
So-and-So!" He replied: ^'That is Colonel 
So-and-So of Richmond of President Davis' 
staff.** I asked no more questions, but thought 
it significant that he was there. 



20 A Prisoner of War 

Two or three days later a hundred or so of 
colored men were at work in that part of the 
park building a stockade enclosing about three 
acres. The stockade was a tight board fence 
twelve feet high, with a walk on the outside 
near the top and a railing outside of it for the 
guard, where they could see everything. On 
the inside, about forty feet from the stockade, 
was a picket fence called ^^the dead line." 
That is, if anyone approached it, he was to be 
shot. 

After the enclosure was completed, one morn- 
ing we noticed a crowd of men being marched 
inside the stockade. They were prisoners from 
Libby. Soon after we followed them. With 
these prisoners came Lieutenant Davis of Balti- 
more, who had charge of the prison. He appar- 
ently had his orders from Richmond and obeyed 
them strictly. It was a very great change for 
us. Our rations, treatment and everything else 
were so radically different. A small brook ran 
through one end of the enclosure, fortunately 
inside the dead line. We dug a spring there 
and from it got all the water we had. 

One day one of our comrades was walking 
down the path to the spring with his canteen to 



And His Escape 21 

get some water, wjien one of the guards who 
was on the stockade shot him dead. So far as 
we knew, there was nothing done about it ex- 
cept that his remains were taken outside. The 
guard remained on his post until time to be 
relieved. 

There was one of our number who had been 
a prisoner so long and had become so reduced in 
health that he feared he could not endure much 
longer. While talking about it with his asso- 
ciates he was asked if he had anything he could 
sell to get some money to buy some food. He 
said he had nothing but his watch. He was ad- 
vised to sell that. Lieutenant Davis came in 
every morning with a guard to count us. The 
next morning when they came in, this prisoner 
approached the lieutenant and said: "Lieu- 
tenant Davis, can I presume to ask a favor of 
you?" "What is itf was the curt question. 
"I have been in prison for a long time and have 
become so reduced in health that I fear I can- 
not hold out much longer. The only thing I 
have left to dispose of is my watch. Could I 
ask you to take it out and sell it for me that I 
might buy something with the money to help 
me f " All right, ' ' said the lieutenant, and put 



22 A Prisoner of War 

the watch in his pocket. The comrade further 
said: ** Lieutenant, please remember to sell 
that watch for $200. If you cannot get that 
much or more, bring it back to me,'^ and he 
gave his name. '*A11 right,'' said the lieu- 
tenant. 

Each morning after that when they came in 
this prisoner would stand around near the lieu- 
tenant, but nothing was said until one morning 
he said : ^ ^ Lieutenant, were you able to sell my 
watch r' ''No, I was not,'' replied the lieu- 
tenant. ''Then, will you kindly bring it in to 
me when you come in tomorrow morning?" he 
requested. "What's your name?" asked Lieu- 
tenant Davis. The prisoner gave his name. 
"Oh, yes, I have done sold your watch already 
for $5," said the lieutenant. "You must be 
mistaken, lieutenant," exclaimed the prisoner, 
' ' for you must remember that I told you if you 
could not sell it for $200 or more, to kindly 
bring it back to me." "You tell me I lie, do 
you?" exclaimed the lieutenant — and turning 
to his guard, said: "Bring him along; I will 
show him." The prisoner was taken just out- 
side the gate, where we could see him, and 
bucked and gagged and sat there on the ground 



And His Escape 23 

in the hot Georgia sun the most of that summer 
day. 

After we were in the stockade the main topic 
of conversation was: *'Was it possible to get 
out of there?" The first thing tried was tun- 
nelling, which required great effort and caution. 
We had nothing to dig with except our hands 
and pocket knives. Then, the fresh dirt must 
not be seen, nor the openings of the tunnels. 
While we worked entirely in the night, our 
work must not be discovered by the guards, 
and several tunnels were under way. One or 
two of them were nearly to the stockade when, 
one morning, they came in as usual to count us. 
We were lined up at one end with the guard 
around us, and were ready to march through 
between two guards and be counted, when Lieu- 
tenant Davis pulled the ramrod out of the rifle 
of one of the guards and went around and 
pushed it into all of the tunnels, showing us 
that he knew of them. He then gave us a strong 
talk, saying we would hereafter be watched 
carefully, and if there was any further attempt 
made toward tunnelling it would be met with 
severe punishment. That was the end of the 
tunnelling. But the question was: "How did 
he get onto itT' After a little we learned that 



24 A Prisoner of War 

the day before when the guard went out they 
took with them one of our prisoners who had 
enlisted from Kentucky or Tennessee — I have 
forgotten which. Fortunately for him he did 
not come back. 

Then the question was: *^What nextT' In 
talking things over with those who had been in 
prison the longest and had the most varied ex- 
periences, they all said it was not so difficult to 
get out of prison or away from those who had 
charge of you, as it was to care for yourself 
after you were at liberty; that the entire South 
was thoroughly organized, not only to prevent 
the escape of Yankee prisoners, but also to ar- 
rest deserters from their own service, and all 
others, both white and colored, who wished to 
evade the service or to get to the North. An 
officer was detailed for each locality who must 
have a pack of good dogs and a posse of men 
always ready and every person was under strict 
orders to report to said officer any strangers, 
stragglers, suspicious persons or any unusual 
circumstances they might know of. Fresh 
tracks were looked after and these officers 
and men were returned to the front if their work 
was not satisfactory. They were wide-awake. 



And His Escape 25 

Several of our number had been recaptured. 
They all said the dogs were the worst part of 
the outfit, that you might possibly evade the 
others, but that when the dogs got on your trail 
they were sure to find you. 

The next question was: ^^What to do with 
the dogsf The only remedy suggested was 
to have something to put on our feet which 
would be so offensive to their sensitive noses 
that it would upset them. After thinking it 
over I decided that if the opportunity presented 
itself, I would try turpentine. There was an 
officer there at Macon whose duties frequently 
called him inside our prison. I was pretty well 
acquainted with him, and sold him my watch. 
One day I asked him if I could presume to ask 
a favor of him. ^ ' What is it T ' he said. ^ ^ Would 
you kindly get me a half pint of good spirits 
of turpentine?" I asked. *^What do you want 
of turpentine?'' he asked. ^^You know the 
Libby prisoners are here, ' ' I replied, * ^ and you 
may know they brought many bugs with them; 
turpentine is said to be good to fight those bugs 
with." **I will see," he said. 

The next time I saw him he handed me a bot- 
tle of turpentine. I thanked him and paid him 



26 A Prisoner of War 

for it. He then said: ** Captain, I want to say 
something which may be entirely unnecessary, 
but I feel that I musf *^What is itr' I asked. 
*^It is that what I have done shall be known to 
no one but you and me, for if it should be known 
that I had brought something in to you it would 



throat. I replied: ''You may be assured no 
one shall know anything about it. Some of 
my comrades may know that I have the turpen- 
tine, but where or how or through whom I got 
it they will have no idea.^' He then said: 
''Captain, I do not wish to be inquisitive or to 
ask any questions about your affairs, but if at 
any time you have an idea you can get out of 
this place, if you will tell me what night, I will 
tell you where on the river you can find a boat 
with oars, blankets and food.'' I thanked him 
most heartily and told him I was fully con- 
firmed in my previous impression that he was a 
noble, generous, first-class gentleman. He then 
said: "Captain, you do not have much to read 
do you?" "Nothing," I said. "Perhaps you 
would enjoy looking this over." He handed 
me a pamphlet and left. On opening it I saw 
it was about Macon, its location and maps show- 




Shoes Worx and Hickory Stick Used by Capt. Langvvorthy 
ON His Trip North and Still In His Possession 



And His Escape 27 

ing the river and roads and where they went, 
etc. 

I kept the turpentine very carefully hoping 
that some time I might be able to escape and 
might possibly need it. 

While in Macon my boots gave out and I pur- 
chased a pair of plain rough darkey shoes, pay- 
ing $60 in Confederate money for them, and 
kept them in reserve for use in case I should 
be so fortunate as to get outside. One of our 
number, who was a major in the regular army, 
started a secret society, which I joined, and 
which soon grew to hundreds. The object of 
the organization was for mutual help. It was 
organized as a regiment, with companies, etc. 
The major was the colonel. 

One day in July a detail was ordered to be 
ready to move at a certain hour the next morn- 
ing. They were ready, but waited for an hour 
or more. The major and many of our new order 
were in the detail, including myself. While 
waiting, several of our organization exchanged 
places and thereby got in so that when we 
marched out our society was well represented. 
We were put on board a train of box cars and 
started east, arriving at Savannah about night- 
fall. We were unloaded and were there in the 



28 A Prisoner of War 

yards an hour or two. While waiting, the 
major said to us: ^^I have learned that we are 
going North, I think to Charleston. When we 
get about so far from here we will be only about 
twelve miles from our men at such a place on 
the coast. I will be sure to get in the front car 
and will detail officers to be in command of 
each of the other cars. They will detail men 
to look after the guard in their cars. At the 
proper time I will swing a lantern out of 
the side door of the front car and swing it 
around as a signal for you to overcome the 
guards in your cars. Take their guns and care 
for them and when the train stops jump out 
and overcome the guards on the top of the cars, 
and we will then go back and overcome those 
in the rear car and then march for the little 
station on the coast.'' 

There were four or ^ve guards in each car 
and about the same number on the top and one 
group commanding the rear car. We all sat on 
the floor, including the guards. I was in com- 
mand of one of the cars and watched very sharp- 
ly for the light, but it did not show up. The 
major had learned that there was suspicion of 
something being done and did not think it best 



And His Escape 29 

to take the risk. We all knew apparently when 
we approached where we should see the light, 
and as it did not show up the men soon began 
to tumble out of the side doors. Upwards of 
one hundred of them got out of the cars in a 
comparatively short time. The guards on top 
fired at them. I do not know whether any of 
our boys were hit or not, but within a few days 
after our arrival at Charleston all of them, ex- 
cept four or ^Ye, were with us, showing the 
efficiency of the organization for the recapture 
of escaped prisoners. 

After the men began to tumble off, we stopped 
at the first telegraph station and a message was 
sent. The officers in that locality turned out 
promptly with their men and dogs, came up 
the railroad until they found a fresh trail, which 
one crew took, the rest going on until they were 
after them all. 

We arrived at Charleston the next morning, 
being the first prisoners who had been brought 
there. We were brought there in the hope that 
we might help to protect the city from the con- 
tinuous cannonading of our troops on Morris 
Island, which had driven the people from the 
lower part of the city. We, of course, were put 



30 A Prisoner of War 

in that part, first in the jail yard and from there 
to the workhouse, a large building in the same 
block used as a jail for the colored people. From 
there we went to Eoper^s Hospital in the same 
block, where we were given comfortable quar- 
ters. Those three buildings and the medical 
college occupied the block. The back yard of 
the hospital joined the back yard of the jail. 

We put in our time evenings watching the 
shells from Morris Island; would see a bright 
light as they started at the horizon and as they 
went up and up until apparently nearly over 
our heads and would then come seemingly 
straight down and usually explode before they 
struck. Apparently the men on the island knew 
when we came and where we were, for while 
the cannonading was regular each night, never 
a shell or a piece of one came to our quarters, 
but plenty of harm was done in the city all the 
time. 

After we had been there for quite a while, 
one day one of our comrades coming in, said to 
me: ^^I have a letter for you. I was in the 
back yard sitting on the ground when some- 
thing dropped down by my side, apparently 
coming from the jail yard. I looked and there 



And His Escape 31 

was a small stone with this tied to it/^ It was 
a small scrap of paper addressed to me, from 
one of my sergeants, saying that he, his brother 
and others of Company ^'E^' were in the jail 
yard. That aroused me some. I went to the gate 
and asked the officer in charge of the guard if 
he would kindly send me, under guard, to go 
around to the jail yard. He said: ^'Why do 
you wish to go to the jail yard?'' I told him 
some men of my company who had been in An- 
dersonville since last April were there and that 
I wished very much to see them. After a little 
he told me to come again in a half hour. I did 
so, and accompanied by the guard, was sent to 
the jail yard, and of the first prisoners I met I 
inquired where the Eighty-fifth New York boys 
were and was told they had been removed that 
morning to the race course outside of the city. 
* * Had they all gone T ' I inquired. They thought 
they had. I told them I was very sorry as men 
of my company were with them. While we were 
talking, one of them said: ''Why, there are 
two of the Eighty-fifth boys over there sitting 
on the ground.'' I went to them. Each had a 
raw Irish potato in his hand scraping it and 
eating it raw for the scurvy. I looked them 



32 A Prisoner of War 

over carefully, but could not recognize them. 
I said: ''Boys, are you from the Eighty-fifth 
New York?" They looked ud and said: ''How 
are you, captain T' and jumped up, embraced 
me and said: "Captain, didn't you know us?'' 
* ' I am sorry to say I did not, ' ' I replied. ' ' Why, 
we are So-and-So of Company 'F,' " they said, 
which was by the side of my company. They 
were men whom I had known for nearly three 
years, yet were so changed that I could not 
recognize them. 

I left much disappointed at not finding my 
men, and thought about it continually. The 
general in command of the Confederate forces 
at Charleston was a Eoman Catholic, hence his 
church people, and especially the Sisters of 
Charity, had free access to the hospitals, pris- 
ons, etc., and did much good work. 

A few days later I noticed some sisters in 
our building. I went to one of them and said: 
' ' Sister, have you been out to the race course ? ' ' 
"Yes," she said, "We have just come from 
there." "How are they?" I asked. "Very, 
very bad," she replied. "Sister, can't you tell 
me something more about them?" I continued. 
"That is about all," she said. "You poor men 





Roper Hospital, Charleston, S. C. 



And His Escape 33 

have suffered enough, but not what they 
have; they are very bad." ^^ Sister/' I contin- 
ued, ' ' there are some of my men there whom I 
have not seen since they went to Andersonville 
prison last April. I would like to learn all I 
can about them." ''They are very bad," she 
said, "that is about all. We tried to minister 
to one poor fellow this morning. In giving him 
a bath we scraped quantities of maggots from 
under his arms and other parts of his body. 
They are very, very bad." ''Sister," I per- 
sisted, ' ' if they had some money would it be of 
any help to them?" "Yes, it would. They could 
not get with it what you would think they 
should, but they could get something and that 
would be a help to them." "Will you be going 
there again soon!" I asked. "Yes, we will go 
there every few days," she replied. "Could I 
ask you to take some money to one of my men? " 
"I would be pleased to do so," she said. "Is 
he a non-commissioned officer!" "Yes, a ser- 
geant, ' ' I replied. ' ' I will be here awhile long- 
er, ' ' she said. "Write him a letter, tell him how 
much you send and what he is to do with it, 
put the money in the letter and seal it. On 
the envelope write his name in full, rank, com- 



34 A Prisoner of War 

pany, regiment, brigade, corps, etc., your name, 
your lieutenant's name, your colonel's name and 
the commander of the brigade and corps — in 
fact write the envelope all over and I will try 
to find him." I did not ask any more questions, 
but thought her directions strange. I went and 
did as she told me to do and gave her the letter. 
A few days later I saw some sisters in the build- 
ing, and going to them saw her to whom I had 
given my letter a few days before, and spoke to 
her. ''Yes, captain," she said, "I was going 
to look you up. We just came from the race 
course. I feel quite sure I found your man and 
gave him your letter. While you did as I told 
you, wrote the envelope all over, you did not 
put too much on it." "How was that, sister?" 
I asked. "Well, when we got there inside the 
race course, they all came around us, hoping 
we would do something for them," she said. 
"I asked for Mr. Jones. Nearly all the men 
there were named Jones. I did not tell them 
any more, but began asking questions. A few 
less were George Jones, a few less George 
Washington Jones, a few less were sergeants 
and in Company 'E,' and in the Eighty-fifth 
New York, etc., until I got down to one man 



And His Escape 35 

and am quite sure lie was the right one." I 
thanked her and told her how greatly I was 
obliged to her, and said: ''Sister, I certainly 
have no reason to doubt what you say, but can- 
not understand it.'' ''How so?" she asked. "I 
know those men thoroughly," I said, "and 
know them not only to be good soldiers, but 
truly honest, truthful, upright, manly men." 
"That's all right, captain," she said, "but as I 
told you before, you have not suffered and 
passed through what they have. I believe that 
if you or I had been through with what they 
have we would not be one whit different from 
what they are and in my heart I cannot blame 
them." I said: "All right, sister, I am fully 
assured that you are a noble, genuine, upright 
Christian lady." 

She found the right man. While the sergeant 
did not live to get to his home, his brother and 
some of the others did, and told me that he got 
the letter and the money and that it was a great 
help. 

We remained in Charleston until the yellow 
fever was so bad that it was difficult to keep a 
guard to guard us, as they were on duty most 
of the time and were more exposed to the hot 



36 A Prisoner of War 

sunsliine and yellow fever than we were. In 
the latter part of September we were moved to 
Columbia, South Carolina, to higher ground 
and supposed to be exempt from the fever. Ar- 
riving there in the afternoon we remained one 
night in the city near the station. The next day 
we were moved across the Saluda river and 
camped on an open field. The second day we 
were there we noticed the assembling of quite 
a force of colored men at a house not far away 
and we suspected that it might mean the build- 
ing of a stockade around us. Some one said: 
^^If we are going to try to get away from here 
it would be well to do so before we are fenced 
in." ^'I said: ^'We have a large moon now, 
which makes it very light at night. This morn- 
ing it set at about 2:30, tomorrow morning it 
will be an hour later, hence we must plan to get 
away tomorrow morning after the moon has 
gone down." 

After talking it over, two of my friends, Cap- 
tain Aldrich and Lieutenant Tewilliger, both 
of the Eighty-fifth, and myself, decided we 
would make an effort to escape. We each got a 
blanket and a little food and waited. In the 
afternoon one of my lieutenants said to me : 



And His Escape 37 

^^Are you going to make a break tonight?" ^'I 
am thinking of trying," I replied. ''Don't yon 
think yon are taking a great risk?" he asked. 
''Yes," I replied, "but is it not a greater one 
to remain here?" "That may be trne," he an- 
swered. I concluded that he thought so too, for 
later he made his escape but was recaptured. 

We, of course, looked the ground over care- 
fully. Three sides of our camp were clear fields, 
the other was near the woods, but at the edge 
of the woods was a high tree fence, which we 
could not get through without making a noise 
which would attract the attention of the guards. 
Near one corner was a vacant schoolhouse, 
which was used by the reserve guard. A little 
distance from this schoolhouse and near the 
guard line was quite a knoll. We decided that 
would do, that if we could get over the knoll we 
would be out of sight. In the latter part of the 
night we went in that direction and as near 
the guard line as we thought it prudent and sat 
down under a small tree. While there two 
other comrades. Captain Starr and Lieutenant 
Hastings, both from New York state, came 
along, looked us over and inquired what we 
were waiting for. They also sat down. 



38 A Prisoner of War 

It was much cooler than at Charleston, so 
much so that the guards built fires on the guard 
line. The guards were changed at 3 o'clock. 
The man whose place was on the beat which we 
wished to cross did his duty faithfully. There 
had been a fire at one end of his beat, but it 
did not entice him. He was walking his beat 
steadily. 

As the moon was nearing the horizon, one 
of the comrades said: ^'If you start when that 
man is near this end of the beat as you are cross- 
ing the guard line he will be at the other end of 
his beat, he will have turned around and will 
see you for there is a fire on both sides.'' We 
said: ''Yes, but we think we will try it. We 
will go abreast so if he shoots he must fire 
through one before he hits the next." When 
the moon was well down and the guard neared 
our end of his beat, we started, going carefully. 
We were crossing his beat when he arrived at 
the other end, he did what he had not done be- 
fore, he stopped with his back towards us, 
took his gun from his shoulder, stooped over 
and began to look after the fire. We thought 
then, as we did several other times, that we 
were favored bv our Heavenlv Father. 



And His Escape 39 

We went over the knoll and stopped to get 
our bearings. Soon I saw two men coming 
over the knoll, and said: '^Boys, they are com- 
ing for us; we will not run." But as they got 
near us we saw that it was Captain Starr and 
Lieutenant Hastings. When they saw the guard 
stop with his back toward us they of course 
came, so we were five instead of three. We 
worked our way through to the woods, got a 
quiet place and stayed there through the day 
where we could hear the calls at the camp. 
That morning I cut a hickory walking stick, 
which I used on the trip, and have it yet. 

It was fortunate for us that Lieutenant Hast- 
ings joined us. He had escaped once and had 
been captured by a posse with dogs, had 
changed his clothing and now wore a Confed- 
erate uniform, which we thought would permit 
him to pass for a Confederate. He was a bright 
young attorney and after the close of the war 
was attorney general for the state of New York. 

After dark we started. We took a north- 
westerly course, being guided by the north star, 
and kept in the woods. About 10 o'clock we 
heaj'rd dogs, and said: '^ Hastings, what is 
that?" He replied: '^A pack of hounds, and 



40 A Prisoner of War 

they are on our trail. ' ' I said : ^ ' Turn up your 
soles," took out the bottle of turpentine which 
I had kept so carefully for months, put some on 
the bottoms of all of our shoes, turned a square 
corner and we all ran as fast as we could in an- 
other direction. After a little we saw we were 
coming to the edge of the woods, where there 
was a road and beyond an open field. Just then 
Hastings said : ^ ' The dogs have struck the tur- 
pentine — hear them — they are not barking, but 
whining ; they are whipping them to make them 
follow the trail, hear them howl, but they won't 
do it — the turpentine is too strong for them." 

We rushed ahead and as we were crossing 
the road we heard a horse coming down the 
road on a good gallop. Soon a man on a horse 
came up. He evidently was one of the party 
who came around on a venture to see if he could 
head off whoever it was that they were after. 
He, of course, had his rifle and could have fol- 
lowed us, and shot or captured us, but there 
were five of us and he did not know that we 
were unarmed, so he began to call loudly and 
whistle for the dogs. Had they responded and 
come with the other men while we were in sight 
with the bright moonlight, they certainly would 



And His Escape 41 

have caught us. We ran as fast as we could. 
In the field "we came to a fair-sized stream, 
rushed into it, waded down it for awhile, then 
crossed over, sat down on the bank and rubbed 
garlic, a strong wild onion, on our feet to 
change the scent, changed our course again and 
pushed on. We were now out of sight and got 
away this time, it being our first night out. 

We had many exciting and varied experi- 
ences. We traveled only in the night and if 
possible kept in the woods, and went in a north- 
westerly course, guided by the north star. If 
we could not see that star and were uncertain 
as to our course I had a pocket compass which 
I carried through the war; we would form a 
ring that the light might not be seen, strike a 
light, look at the compass, get our bearings and 
proceed. 

We kept aloof, if possible, from aU human 
beings, preferring to suffer material privations 
to taking chances. Our food was what we 
might pick up in the woods, which was very 
little. We could easily approach a corn field 
every night. The corn was ripe, hence hard to 
eat raw, but much better than nothing. Before 
daylight in the morning we would look for a 



42 A Prisoner of War 

quiet place in the woods and lie down, bnt seem- 
ingly nearly every morning before we had slept 
long something would occur to seriously dis- 
turb us. Some one out shooting or chopping 
wood, or doing various other things. One night 
about midnight we came to the edge of the 
woods, and as the woods did not run in the right 
direction, and there were no houses in sight and 
a road which ran in the direction we were go- 
ing we decided that we would follow it, being 
careful to keep on the sides and not leave any 
tracks, until we could reach another stretch of 
woods. We did so and as we were going quiet- 
ly along we noticed a light in a house which, 
like all the houses in the South, stood well back 
from the road. On looking around we found one 
or two other lights and discovered that we were 
in a small town, but apparently half way or 
more through it, so went on and got to the 
woods once more. 

Several days after our escape, early in the 
morning, as usual, we got a place in the woods, 
lay down and after a short sleep were eating 
our corn, when one said : ^ ' This is pretty tough 
grub for all the time. We are in the woods 
apparently out of sight of every one, we have 



And His Escape 43 

matches, why can't we make a hole in the 
ground, start a little fire, put our corn around 
it, over it, all about it, let it toast, roast or burn? 
It will be much better than it is now. ' ' We did 
so, and were watching the fire when we saw a 
woman with a plain gray cotton dress, hanging 
from the shoulders like a night dress, coming 
toward us. Presuming that she was a colored 
woman, we said : ' ^ Hastings, go and make friends 
with that Auntie or we will be in trouble." 
He started. As he approached her, he said: 
' ' Good morning. Auntie, ' ' then saw that she was 
white. '^I know who you uns is. They cotched 
two of you uns here yesterday and took them 
back to Columbia," she said. ''Yes, my good 
lady, I am an escaped prisoner of war," said 
Hastings. He then went on talking with her to 
the best of his ability. They were soon joined by 
her three daughters, who were about twelve, 
fourteen and sixteen years old, and dressed like 
their mother. He learned that she was a widow, 
owned a large plantation, which we were on, 
that she and her daughters were out looking 
about the place and saw the smoke and were 
coming to see what it was. We, of course, put 
out the fire. She had two sons, young men, who 
had been in the army since the beginning of 



44 A Prisoner of War 

the war. Before the war she was in good finan- 
cial condition, had plenty of slaves, but they 
had run away long before, so that she and her 
daughters were left alone, and were obliged to 
work the plantation enough to give them some- 
thing to live on. Hastings asked if her sons 
were both living. ^^Yes, fortunately they are 
and neither of them has been wounded, '' she 
replied. "Have they ever been made prison- 
ers ? ' ' Hastings inquired. ^ ^ Yes, they were both 
captured last spring,^' she said. "Where in 
the North were they confined f he asked. She 
told him. "How were they treated?'' "Fine- 
ly," they said. "Have they been exchanged?'' 
he questioned. ^ ' Yes, ' ' was the reply. ' ' I sup- 
pose," continued Hastings, "that after their 
exchange they were allowed to come home." 
"Yes," said the woman, "and I was glad that 
they were captured for it was the first time I 
have seen them since the beginning of the war. 
They looked fine and said they were well-treat- 
ed while prisoners and had no reason to com- 
plain." "My good lady," said Hastings, "I 
am very glad to know that they were well- 
treated and that you had a good visit with 
them. We have been prisoners of war from six 



And His Escape 45 

months to one and a half years each. We have 
nothing to say about how your government has 
treated us, perhaps it did as well by us as it 
could. A few days ago we made our escape 
when the guards did not see us and they prob- 
ably do not know it now. We are making every 
effort to get home to our mothers, wives, sisters 
and daughters. If you will recall how you felt 
about your sons you will understand how they 
feel. I know that you are required to report to 
the officer in charge in this locality that you 
have seen strangers here, but if you have, as I 
believe you have, a true mother 's heart and any 
regard for us, for God^s sake don't do it until 
tomorrow, for as you can readily see, we must 
stay here until after dark tonight. To do other- 
wise would be the greatest folly; so we are in 
your hands. If you wish to send us back to 
Columbia all that is necessary is to report us 
today. We shall be here all day,'' and so he 
continued to the best of his ability, and he was 
a good pleader. After a little, the youngest 
daughter began to rub her eyes and shed tears, 
and said: ^'Mister, we won't tell on you uns, 
will we mar?" and soon was joined by the other 
two, all weeping and saying: ^^ Mister, we won't 



46 A Prisoner of War 

tell on you uns, will we mar f ' ' but the good lady 
said nothing, and the plea continued, helped by 
the appeal of the daughters, until the woman 
said: "Mister, we will not tell on you uns to- 
day. ' ' He replied : ' ^ My good lady, I am very 
glad that you took time to deliberate before you 
decided what to do, for I feel assured that you 
mean and will do just what you say, but if you 
have no objections will you and your daughters 
hold up your right hands." They did so and 
he administered to them, I presume, as strong 
an oath as he ever did that they would not in 
any way let it be known that they had seen us 
until the next day. He then said: ''Am I the 
first Yankee you have met V^ ' ' Yes, the first, ' ' 
she said. "I am the poorest looking of our 
number," said Hastings. "Come and let me 
introduce you to the others." He brought them 
and we were formally introduced and they soon 
left. We soon heard some dogs barking. We 
said: "Hastings, how about that?" He said: 
' ' There are several of them, but I do not think 
they are on a trail." But the barking contin- 
ued until one of our number went up a tree. 
After he got well up in the tree he saw in an 
open field adjoining the woods, over toward 



And His Escape 47 

the river, a man with a bunch of dogs. Appar- 
ently he was out to give them exercise, and as 
they did not get scent of us or cross our trail 
they did not trouble us; but the two incidents 
gave us plenty of anxiety for that day. After 
dark we were moving. 

One night as we were traveling in the woods, 
Captain Aldrich said to me: '^I have kept a 
correct diary since we started, giving our 
names, telling when and how we got out and 
each day since, but I have lost it tonight. '^ I 
replied: ''I am sorry for your loss, but we will 
not go back to look for it. It may be found, but 
if it is we will hope we will be far enough away 
so that they will not find us. ' ' The diary prob- 
ably was found and returned to Columbia, for 
one morning when they came in to count the 
prisoners, the officer in charge said: ''Men, I 
suppose you all know that ^ve of your num- 
ber '' — giving our names — "got out from here 
on the morning of October 3rd. They did nice- 
ly for a while, got to such a place, were dis- 
covered and a posse sent after them. They 
were ordered to surrender, but did not and all 
were shot dead.'' That, of course, was a warn- 
ing to all the others not to take similar risks. 



48 A Prisoner of War 

Not long after I reached my home in New 
York City, one of the lieutenants of the Eighty- 
fifth was exchanged. As he was passing through 
the city, he thought he would come to the house 
and see if he could learn anything about me. 
He did so, and was much surprised to find me 
there, and told me what had been told them 
about our escape and execution. 

In the latter part of one night, when we were 
well up on the Blue Eidge mountains, we had 
trouble in making our way in the direction 
which we wished to keep, and came to a moun- 
tain road which led the right way. We decided 
to try it for a while and, as we always did when 
on or near a highway, one of us went ahead. 
This time I was ahead. As I came to a small 
gully and was about to step onto the bridge 
which was across it, I heard a call from the 
other side: ''Corporal of the Guard, Post No. 
3," which gave me a shock. I threw up my 
hands and hurried back, and reported what I 
had heard. We went up into the mountains 
and looked for a suitable place to hide. After 
a reasonable time in the morning, we said: 
''Hastings, we are in a tight place. You must 
go and investigate for we cannot move from 



And His Escape 49 

here without some knowledge of our surround- 
ings." He started, but did not go far before he 
saw a small clearing and a shack. He watched 
it, and saw a colored woman and some colored 
children. He watched until he felt sure there 
was no one else there, then went toward the 
house. As he came up the woman, speaking 
first, said: "Mister, this a very bad place for 
you uns; there is a company of guerrillas here. 
I am expecting one of them up here for his 
washing. ' ' Turning to a boy she said : ' ' Tom, 
you go to that knoll and keep a sharp watch. If 
you see anyone coming you tell me quick.'' 
Then she turned to Hastings and was ready to 
talk with him. He told her who he was and 
about us. She gave him something to eat and 
other food she had for him to bring to us, and 
said we were in a tight place, that she was not 
well posted, but that her husband was a free 
man, hence could go about the country and 
was pretty well posted, that he would be home 
by and by, and she would have him see what he 
could do for us. She said for us all to come 
to the house after dark when her husband would 
be there and she would have something more 
for us to eat. Hastings returned and reported. 



50 A Prisoner of War 

We waited until after dark, then went to the 
house. The husband was there — quite a bright- 
looking man. We were fed. He said we were 
in a tight place, but that he would take us 
past the guerrillas and start us on beyond. We 
started out, he and I going ahead. Soon we 
came to a few houses, went around and past 
them, went through a gate into a back yard. 
Passing through that we went near the back 
of a large log stable in which were lights. We 
could see between the logs. It was full of 
horses and men caring for them. Captain Aid- 
rich came up, took hold of my right arm and 
said: ^^Are not those the guerrillas f I said: 
^'Be quiet." As he held onto my arm I could 
feel his heart beat. But our guide took us 
through all right to the other side and away 
from the guerrillas. We came to a road lead- 
ing up into the mountains. Our guide said: 
^^You want to go the way this road runs. You 
had better stay in the woods until morning, 
then go up the mountain the way this road goes. 
When you come to four corners, a signboard 
and a schoolhouse there is the line between 
North and South Carolina. Keep straight 
ahead, but about two miles beyond the school- 



And His Escape 51 

house are some soldiers beside the road. Do 
not let them see you, but go well around them. 
They stop everybody that comes along. Get 
back to the road and go ahead until you come 
to a house and a blacksmith shop. Stop and 
see that man. He will take care of you. ' ' Who 
is hef we asked. "He is a first-class Union 
man/' he replied. "I was over there this sum- 
mer. He is all right." We thanked him most 
heartily and he left us and we went into the 
woods for the night. The next day we worked 
our way up the mountain, arriving at the 
schoolhouse about dark. It was raining. We 
decided to go a piece by the road, so started on. 
I went ahead. None of us thought about the 
guards who were by the side of the road. As 
I was nearing a narrow pass I saw a light shin- 
ing across the road. Like a flash it came to 
me. I threw up my hands and hurried back. 
We went well around them, which was quite a 
job in the dark and the rain and the thick 
brush; but we got back to the road, kept on 
until we came to the blacksmith shop. It was 
about 10 o'clock and there was no light in the 
house. We had a talk and decided that we 
were in a tight place and that Hastings might 
go to the house as a Confederate soldier and 



52 A Prisoner of War 

see what he could learn. He went and rapped 
on the door. A man came to the door. Hast- 
ings told him he was a soldier with a leave of 
absence who had lost his way and asked if he 
could come in for a short time. While talking 
he asked the man how he was getting on. He 
said not at all well. ''Why notT' asked Hast- 
ings, ''you have a nice place here.'' "Yes/* 
was the answer, "but they do not treat me 
well.'' "How is that?" Hastings inquired. 
"Colonel So-and-So was here the other day," 
said the man, ' ' and took all of my horses, cattle 
and grain he could find." "Did he do the same 
by your neighbors?" asked Hastings. "No one 
else," said the man. "How so?" asked Hast- 
ings. "He said I was too much of a Union 
man," was the reply. Hastings then said: 
"We have talked long enough. I am not a 
Confederate soldier, but a Union officer, an es- 
caped prisoner of war." "Why didn't you tell 
me that before ? ' ' asked the man. ' ' Come, wife, 
get up and give this poor fellow something to 
eat." There was a bed in the room, an open 
fireplace with a fire in it. "I am not alone," 
said Hastings. "I have four comrades out- 
side." "Outside in this hard rain? Go bring 



And His Escape S3 

them in, quick, ' ^ said the man. When we came 
in he was pulling a jug out from under the bed. 
Pouring something out of it, he said: ^^You 
are all wet, cold and hungry; here is some good 
apple jack which I made. Drink some of it, 
it will do you good. Have any of you got a 
bottler' I had a small one which I had carried 
through the service, usually having it filled with 
brandy to use when some of my men gave out. 
He filled it. We were fed and he told us what 
to do; to go down the road and avoid all the 
houses which we would have to pass, some we 
must go well around, not leaving a track, others 
to go right past. At the last house near the 
bridge there would be a light, but to go right 
ahead. A poor man was dying there. When 
we crossed the river he told us to turn to the 
left, go about two miles, take the first road to 
the right, go to the first house, which was a 
blacksmith shop, and wait until morning. He 
said we need not be afraid, as there were no 
white people there; they had all left. *'In the 
morning,'' he said, ^^when you see the first 
darkey, whistle and he will come to you. Tell 
him who you are and to take care of you 
through the day, and at night to take you to 



54 A Prisoner of War 

the high sheriff." ''What do we want of the 
sheriff? '^ we asked. ''He is just the man you 
want/' was the reply. "He will take care of 
you, and if necessary will ride all day to find 
out something for you. He is allowed to be 
at home because he is a sheriff, but there isn't 
a better Union man. ' ' We went on, got through 
to the other shop all right, were cared for, put 
into the woods for the day. At night we started 
on with two colored men, who would take us 
to the sheriff. Neither of the men had been 
there, but the older one, who acted as our guide, 
thought he could find the way. We had not 
gone far when he stopped at a servant's house 
back of a plantation house, saying he wanted 
to go in there. He soon returned, saying they 
wanted us to come in. We hesitated, and he 
said it was all right; all were colored people 
except one minister and he was all right. We 
finally went in. The minister was a young- 
looking man who was allowed to remain at 
home because he was a clergyman. We en- 
deavored to be respectful to him. He asked 
us: "What is the news I" Captain Starr re- 
plied: "We can't tell you. I have been a pris- 
oner for a year and a half and we are not al- 



And His Escape 55 

lowed to see the papers. You tell us the news. ' ' 
^*I don't read the papers," was the reply. '^I 
suppose you confine yourself to clerical read- 
ing," said Starr. ''No, I never look at it," re- 
plied the man. ''What do you read?" asked 
Starr. "Books," said the minister. The good 
man evidently did not know what "clerical" 
meant ; but so far as we knew he was true to us 
and did not give us away. 

After our guide had procured some informa- 
tion as to his route, we left. When outside he 
said to his comrade : ' ' You go ahead and care- 
fully look around a certain place two miles 
ahead ; it is a bad place. ' ' He did so, met us and 
reported. We came to some woods and the 
guide said: "There is a path going through 
these woods leading to the road which goes to 
the sheriff. If we can find it, it will save us 
several miles." They hunted up and down the 
edge of the woods until they found the path. 
We then went through the woods, struck the 
road and went on until we came in sight of the 
sheriff's house, rather late in the evening. The 
dogs around the house were barking. The 
guide said: "You stop here while I go call 
him out and have the dogs taken in. ' ' He went 



56 A Prisoner of War 

forward and called out. A man appeared on the 
front porch and asked who was there. ''A 
friend/' was the reply. ''Will you take the 
dogs in so that I can come inf The dogs were 
called in. He went to the porch and soon came 
for us. 

We were received most kindly. The sheriff 
asked many questions and said : " I will be very 
glad to care for you as well as I can until I can 
find a way for you to go on, ' ' but added that it 
would not be safe for us to remain at the house ; 
that we should eat then and he would take us to 
a place in the woods for the night; that we 
should come in before daylight in the morning, 
eat and return and the same at night. He said: 
' ' There is a terrible state of affairs here so near 
the border, so much worse than it is in the 
North. My neighbors, some of them, are Con- 
federates and others good Union men. They 
do not mind going out and shooting each other. 
Some of the Union men who do not wish to 
abandon everything and go north, but will not 
enter the Southern army, stay in the woods in 
the mountains. Some of them have been there 
for two years. You see my boy there,'' point- 
ing to a boy six or eight years old. ''We have 




The Other Five E-cAPtu ukficek; 



And His Escape 57 

endeavored to bring Mm up to be a good relig- 
ious, strictly honest and truthful boy, yet if 
anyone should come here tomorrow and ask him 
if there had been any strangers here, no matter 
what they did to him they could not get a word 
out of him. Isn't that a terrible way to bring up 
children?'' We were taken to the woods. After 
two or three days one afternoon we saw some 
men coming toward us through the woods. We 
supposed they were after us, but as they came 
nearer we saw that one of them was the sheriff. 
He had five other prisoners who had escaped 
from Columbia. All officers, of course. Three 
of them were from the 101st and 103rd Penn- 
sylvania regiments, which were in our brigade. 
So our force was doubled. 

After three or four days the sheriff told us: 
^^I have arranged for you to go ahead in the 
morning. A good guide, who has been several 
times to the Union lines, will go with you and a 
few who wish to go north. Which of you offi- 
cers is in command?" he asked. *^No one," we 
answered. ^'Is that the way you do? What is 
your military rule when you meet in this way? 
Who is in command?" ^'The ranking officer," 
we told him. ^'Who is your ranking officer?" 



58 A Prisoner of War 

he inquired. '^ Captain Langworthy/ ' they re- 
plied. ''Then Captain Langworthy is in com- 
mand, ' ' he said, ' ' and all of you, of course, will 
obey orders. I sincerely hope you will not have 
any trouble, but you all know there is no telling 
what you may run into and you cannot be too 
well prepared. You leave here in the morning, 
go to such a place in the mountains, which you 
will reach about night, where some other parties 
will join you." 

We left in the morning. There was the 
guide and three or four other men and one col- 
ored man. The guide had a rifle, one of the 
others a revolver, which was all the arms we 
had. I went ahead with the guide. We got on 
nicely most of the day. Near night, while in the 
woods walking by the side of a small stream a 
volley of rifle shots from the other side of the 
stream startled us. We rushed up the moun- 
tainside. When a little way up we looked our- 
selves over and found we were all there except 
one of the refugees. We never knew whether he 
was shot or went in some other direction. I 
looked across the little valley and saw a small 
village on the other side and a company of Con- 
federate soldiers marching down the street 



And His Escape 59 

with their rifles on their shoulders. By and by 
the guide said to me : ^ ' You all get behind that 
large rock. I think there are but two men near 
us. Joe and I will get behind this and see if we 
cannot bluff them. ' ' They got behind the rock, 
showing their arms, and as the two men came in 
sight, halted them. ' ' What do you want ? ' ' they 
asked. ''Who are you?'' was the reply. Our 
guide told them they could never find out, for if 
they came any nearer they would be shot dead; 
that being only two men it would be worse than 
foolish to follow us. 

After a little more parleying we started on. 
It was getting dark and began to rain hard. We 
went over a ridge of the mountains, down the 
other side and across a small stream, when the 
guide said to me : ' ' There is no use in our try- 
ing to go ahead now; we cannot see anything 
to tell in what direction we are going and are 
just as apt to go into trouble as away from it. 
They will not attempt to follow us tonight; 
dogs could not follow our trail through this 
rain. We had better stay here until we can see 
where we go. What do you want me to do?" 
''Get us out of this muss and to the Union 
lines, '^ I replied, "We must have been given 



60 A Prisoner of War 

away." ^^Yes/' he said, ''we have been given 
away, but how shall we get out of this muss?" 
''By a way they would not expect us to," I 
said. "They doubtless know that we have 
started for the Union lines, hence will have ev- 
ery pass over the mountains guarded. We want 
to go where no one would be expected to go, 
over the highest, roughest and worst peak of 
the Allegheny Mountains. " " That is easy, ' * he 
replied. "That is Mount Pisga. We can see 
that when we can see anything." "All right for 
Pisga then," I said. 

We remained where we were until it began to 
grow light, then started for Pisga, climbing up 
its side, much of the time over and around 
rocks, arriving at the peak a little before night. 
We went down the other side a short distance 
and stopped for the night. Down the mountain 
we could see a valley, with houses and clear- 
ings, etc. It was still raining as it had been 
doing all the day. We ten prisoners were 
bunched by ourselves and the others in another 
group, a little way from us. Before lying down 
I went over where the others were. They had 
gotten some dry pieces of wood and were whit- 
tling as if about to start a fire. "What are you 



And His Escape 61 

going to doT' I asked. ^*"We are very wet and 
cold,^' they said; ^'it would be so nice to have a 
little fire." ^^Yes," I said, ^^but what would it 
do to you? You can see those lights down 
there; they can see one here better than we can 
see those in the valley. They know no one lives 
here. A light here would bring them to investi- 
gate, perhaps before morning, and they would 
be sure to get us. Would it pay? Now, you 
must understand fully that there shall not be 
any light made here. The first one who even 
strikes a match is a dead man.'* The guide 
said: ^'That's all right, Captain. You may 
be sure we will not do anything of the kind. We 
should have known better. ' ' 

In the morning we went on and got along 
fairly well up and down the ridges of the 
mountains until one afternoon the guide said: 
^^Now we are all right; while we are not at the 
Union lines, we are near enough to be safe. The 
people here are all right. Down below here are 
some friends of mine, a man and his wife, who 
will help us.'' We all felt gay and skipped 
along much like school boys, arriving at the 
friend's house about nightfall. '^You wait out 
here," said the guide, ^^and I will go in and 
tell them who we are." He soon returned and 



62 A Prisoner of War 

said there was something wrong, as there was 
no one in the house, that they had just left, as 
supper was on the table and partially eaten. 
Near the house was a slashing. We told him to 
go there and look for his friends, announcing 
who he was. He did so and returned with the 
wife. She said there was a bad company of 
guerrillas there who were making much trouble 
and had killed several people. We suggested 
that the guide and the wife try again to find the 
husband, which they did and brought him in. 
He said we were in a bad fix, but he would try 
to help us on the next morning. We were fed 
and decided to stay outside. We established a 
guard and lay down in the yard. In the morn- 
ing we started out with this gentleman as a 
guide, going carefully through the woods. We 
had not gone very far before our guide was 
called by name by someone in the woods who 
said : ' ' Where are you going ? ^ ' ' ^ A piece with 
some friends,'^ he replied. ^'You are taking a 
very great risk, ' ' he was told. At one place the 
guide said: "See that large plantation over 
there and those men digging a grave — the man 
who lived there was shot by the guerrillas yes- 
terday. ' ' 



And His Escape 63 

We kept on till, late in the afternoon, we 
came to a road. The guide said: ^'I will leave 
yon here. You go up this road a little ways 
and you will come to a cross road and a store. 
That is about forty-five miles from my home. 
Go straight past the store until you come to the 
river, then cross in a row boat. If there is not 
one there, swing your handkerchiefs or some- 
thing and they will come." 

The road was lined on both sides with trees 
and plenty of brush. The guide and I went 
ahead. Someone spoke to us. Looking toward 
the side of the road we saw two soldiers sitting 
on the ground holding their horses. We sup- 
posed they belonged to the guerrillas. Our com- 
rades came up, we talked a little and went on to 
the river, where we got a boat. I asked one of 
the oarsmen where their ferry boat was. He 
said : ' ' This is it. " ^ ^ I mean one that will take 
a team or horses or cattle,'' I said. ^^The only 
way they can take horses across is to go in the 
boat themselves, lead their horses and let them 
swim. We used to have such a ferry, but they 
took it way,'' he said. ^'How far up or down the 
river is there such a ferry?" I inquired. ^'I do 
not think there is one within twenty-five 



64 A Prisoner of War 

miles." That information of course relieved 
onr anxiety somewhat. It was about the mid- 
dle of November. I inquired if they had heard 
from the election in the North. They said they 
had and I asked who was elected president. 
*' Abraham Lincoln," was the reply. We hur- 
rahed, although we were yet in the Confederacy. 

When we got across it was dark and we were 
all very tired. Most of our company stopped at 
the first houses. I started up the road with my 
four comrades. They said: ''How far are you 
going?" ''I don't know," I replied. ''We are 
all very tired, yet I think we do not want to 
take any chances which we can avoid. If the 
two guerrillas with some of their associates 
come over to look after us, either with or with- 
out their horses, they will look in the houses. 
I do not care to be in the first house they 
search." "All right," they said, "go ahead." 

After going about a mile we came to a good 
looking house and decided to see if we could 
get something to eat. We rapped at the door 
and inquired if we could get something to eat 
if we would pay for it and were told to come in. 
While at the table I asked how far it was to 
the Union lines. "Fifteen miles straight up 



And His Escape 65 

the road which comes from the river/' was the 
reply. ^'How will we know when we get 
there f I inquired. '^Go ahead until you come 
to a flour mill with a large water wheel," was 
the reply. "That is practically there. The 
guards are beyond, but so near that no one will 
go to the mill who is afraid of the guard. The 
man who owns the mill is a bachelor and sleeps 
there, a good Union man. Call him up, he will 
care for you and in the morning will show you 
the guards." 

We started on. The moon was shining bright- 
ly. Soon one or two who were ahead were roll- 
ing a small animal around which was lying in 
the road and apparently dead. Captain Al- 
drich came up and said, "He is not dead. If 
you think he is feel of him, it is a possum. We 
came to him suddenly and he is playing pos- 
sum. Go on a little ways and then look at him. ' ' 
We did so and he soon raised his head, looked 
around and scooted out of sight. 

As we went on Aldrich lagged behind. We 
waited for him and I said, "Aldrich, you are 
very tired. I know that you are a strict teeto- 
taler, take a little medicine, some of this apple 
jack to brace you up. ' ' He said, ' ' No, go ahead, 



66 A Prisoner of War 

I will keep in sight/' We went on slowly, he 
well behind. By and by I heard a call, *'Cap- 
t-a-i-n, Capt-a-i-n." We stopped. He came up 
and said, ''Captain, where is that bottle T' I 
took it out, unscrewed the cover and said, 
''Now drink enough to brace you up. It will 
not hurt you if you drink it all. ' ' He took some 
and it helped him and we got to the flour mill. 
We were kindly received and in the morning 
were shown where the pickets were. 

We went to the pickets and when they were 
relieved went with them to their camp at Straw- 
berry Plains in East Tennessee. This was on 
Sunday. In the afternoon the rest of our crew 
came in. After dress parade we ten were fur- 
nished horses and escort and taken to a railroad 
station, the Quarter Master giving us transpor- 
tation. While waiting for the train and talk- 
ing with the officers there, we were asked if we 
had any money. Some had a little, others none. 
Those of us who had none were at once given 
$50 or $60 each and were told that when we 
drew our pay we could send the amounts to the 
men who had supplied us. 

As we were changing cars one day, passing 
by a station, I saw a man who looked familiar. 



And His Escape 67 

I went to him and asked when he came down 
from God's country. He said he had been there 
some time. "What is your business?" I asked. 
"An express agent," he told me. "Oh, yes," 
I said, "you used to be in Elmira, New York. 
That is where I used to see you. Who else is 
there down here from Elmira?" I inquired. 
"I do not know of anyone," he said, "except 
Major Diven; he is a pa^onaster at Louisville." 
"Where does he stop?" I asked. "At the Gait 
House," the man told me. "He has been re- 
cently married and he and his bride are at the 
Gait House." 

We went on and were told we would arrive 
at Louisville at one o'clock the next morning, 
where we had planned to take a steamer to Cin- 
cinnati. Major Diven was a son of General 
Diven, who lived in Elmira, New York, near 
where my father-in-law lived. The two fami- 
lies were intimate and when I was married, the 
Divens, including the Major, were present. 

My comrades asked me where I was going to 
stop when we got to Louisville. I said the Gait 
House. "Aren't you very tony? Do you sup- 
pose they will take us?" they asked. "That 
is where I am going," I said. 



68 A Prisoner of War 

We arrived on time and went to the hotel, 
where we registered and were told they were 
very sorry but there had not been a vacant 
room in the house since eight o'clock the night 
before; the best they could do would be to give 
us cots in the parlor where several others were 
assigned. We took the cots and were soon 
asleep. In the morning, after breakfast, I 
went to the office and inquired if Major Diven 
was around yet and was told the major and his 
family had left about a week before and had 
taken a house. ^' Where is his office f I in- 
quired. They told me and I asked at what time 
in the morning he would be in his office. They 
thought at nine o'clock. I went to look for my 
comrades and found them in the waiting room. 
^^Our boat does not leave until four o'clock this 
afternoon," I said. ^^We have the day to put 
in here. Come and take a little walk with me. ' ' 
*^ Where are you going!" they inquired. ^^To 
draw my pay," I told them. ^*To draw your 
pay ! ' ' they laughed. ' ' There is a United States 
paymaster here," I said. '^Why should we 
not draw our pay?" But, while they had noth- 
ing to do, I could not persuade one to go with 
me. So I went away alone and found a colored 




As They Appeared After Reaching the Union Lines 

(From left to right) 

Lieut. J. E. Terwilliger, 85th N. Y. 
Capt. C. S. Aldrich, 85th N. Y. 

Capt. D. a. Langworthy, 85th N. Y. 

Lieut. G. S. Hastings, 24th N. Y. Batt. 
Capt. George H. Starr, 104th N. Y. 



And His Escape 69 

man sweeping out the office. I inquired if Ma- 
jor Diven was in and was told that he was not, 
but would be soon and would I come in. I 
picked up the morning paper from the steps 
and went in. Soon the Major came. I said, 
*' Major, I am an officer in the United States 
service, an escaped prisoner of war; I came to 
draw some pay.'^ ^'What is your name, rank, 
regiment and where and when were you cap- 
tured f he asked. I told him. He said, ^'I sup- 
pose you know there is an order forbidding us 
to pay officers or men if they are away from 
their command f ^^Yes,'' I said, ^^but how 
about prisoners of war and especially those who 
have made their escape! What provision is 
there for them?'' ^' There certainly should be 
some," he replied, "but I must first talk it over 

with Colonel , my superior. Did you 

tell me your name was D. A. Langworthy, Cap- 
tain of Company ^E', 85th New Yorkr' he 
asked. "Yes,'' I replied. "Did you marry 
Belle Cooke last year?" he continued. "Yes," 
I said. "Why, I was at your wedding!" he ex- 
claimed. ^ ^ I will certainly pay you if I have to 
furnish the money myself, but let me go first 
and talk with the Colonel. " " One minute first, 



70 A Prisoner of War 

Major," I said. ''There are nine others with 
me, we are all alike, two of them are in the 
85th and three others in our brigade. '^ He left 
and soon returned saying he was told he could 
give us all one month ^s pay. I told him that 
would do nicely and I would go for the others. 
* ' Wait a minute, ' ^ he said, ' ' so that I can have 
your papers ready for you to sign. When were 
you paid lastT' he inquired. "You will please 
say nothing about it, for I will take the liberty 
of paying you for six months. So my check was 
for something over $900.00. 

I went for the others, they all got some pay 
and of course all felt better. We arrived at Cin- 
cinnati at about five o'clock in the morning. 
I was somewhat at home there, for in previous 
years I had been there for some time each year 
looking after my father's lumber interests. 
My chums were inquiring for the Quarter Mas- 
ter to get their transportation. I told them I 
should not trouble about the Quarter Master. 
"Why not?" they asked. "His office probably 
will not be open before nine o'clock," I said. 
" If I can get the six o 'clock express at the little 
Miami station it will make about one day's dif- 
ference in my getting home and I am getting in 



And His Escape 71 

a hurry." '^How about your railroad fare!" 
they inquired. '^I will pay it and take the 
chance of getting it back," I said. 

I got the train and went the rest of the way 
alone. When, in the latter part of March, 1864, 
I was returned to the front from detail duty in 
the North, I left my wife at my home in New 
York City. While in prison I learned that she 
had returned to her father in Elmira, New 
York. So of course I made for Elmira. Ar- 
rived there in the latter part of the night. I 
started to walk to father Cooke's. While I was 
in prison my wife had an illness which troubled 
her head and started her hair coming out. Hop- 
ing to save it, she had it cut short and the night 
before had put it up in curl papers. It chanced 
that she and one of her sisters were sleeping in 
a front chamber with the front window open 
and she was awake and heard someone coming. 
She recognized my step and shook her sister, 
saying, ^^Nell, Nell, get out of here quick, the 
Doctor is coming!" '^ There is no Doctor com- 
ing for you," said Nell. '^I tell you he is. I 
know his step. Can't you hear it. There — ^he 
has opened the gate ! ' ' and she pushed her sister 
out of bed and told her to go. 



72 A Prisoner of War 

I rapped on the door, was admitted and em- 
braced by Father Cooke, who opened the stair 
door and said, ''Belle." ''Yes, father, I know 
who it is, ' ' she replied. ' ' Send him np. ' ' When 
I entered the room she was sitting up in bed 
taking the curl papers out of her hair. That 
was the 20th of November. I had been six 
weeks on the trip. 

That day or the next I noticed several wag- 
ons going past loaded with fresh meat, bread, 
vegetables and other articles of food. I in- 
quired where all that food was going and was 
told, "To your old camp." "Have they got 
recruits there now?" I asked. "No," was the 
reply, "Confederate prisoners." It looked to 
me as though they were well cared for. 

I certainly was well done up. For the first 
two weeks I did not do much but eat and sleep. 
It seemed as though I would never get filled 
up and rested. I would eat breakfast and, be- 
fore I knew it, be asleep. After I had been 
there a week or more, one evening my wife's 
two sisters, young ladies, said, "Father, are 
you going to the hall this evening to hear the 
lecture?" "No," he said, "I had not intended 
to and do not know as I care to." "It will be 



And His Escape 73 

a fine lecture,'' they told him, ^^ Doctor so-and- 
so of New York City. We would like to go but 
have no one to escort us." I said, '^ Girls, why 
don't you invite me!" ^'We would be de- 
lighted to have you go, but fear you would go 
to sleep, ' ' they said. I promised to try to keep 
awake and we went. 

While waiting for the lecture to begin I felt 
weary, leaned forward, put my forehead on the 
back of the seat in front and the next thing I 
knew they shook me up and said it was time to 
go home. 

When I arrived in Elmira I of course re- 
ported to Washington that I had escaped, giv- 
ing my whereabouts. After two or three weeks 
I received an order to proceed to Annapolis, 
Maryland, where the exchanged prisoners were 
received and cared for. After being there a few 
days I received an order to report to Lieuten- 
ant-Colonel Will W. Clark of the 85th New 
York, at Eoanoke Island, North Carolina, who 
was there with a few of the 85th who were not 
at Plymouth at the time of the capture. 

On arriving there on December 23rd, I found 
awaiting me Special Order Number 439 by 
which I was mustered out and discharged by 



74 A Prisoner of War 

reason of the expiration of my time of service; 
but which I suppose meant that I did not have 
any command. I then returned to my home in 
New York City and the war fortunately was 
soon over. 

So far as I know Captain George H. Starr of 
Yonkers, New York, and myself are the only 
persons living of the ten who reached home 
together. 

After arriving at our homes, and after the 
war had ended we all contributed to a finan- 
cial remembrance to the ^'high sheriff'' and en- 
deavored to express to him our very great obli- 
gation for his remarkable kindness and effi- 
cient help to us when we were all in such a 
critical plight, near the boundary which divid- 
ed the north from the south during our flight 
for freedom. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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